


Time Lapse

by BetweenPaperPages



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5981314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenPaperPages/pseuds/BetweenPaperPages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time is a fickle thing as Mr. Gold knows to be true; his past has left him with a… interesting view of it. One that did not come to him of his own choice, a curse would be a far more apt manner to describe it. While he has learned to accept his ability for what it is, a new arrival in town makes him wonder if he really does understand it as well as he believes.   </p><p>“Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not. Time takes it all, time bears it away... and in the end... there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again.” – Stephen King</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Lapse

It wasn’t that Mr. Gold didn’t like people…. Well there were quite a few he didn’t care for, if one was to count the general public, but he couldn’t stand how time seemed to slip away between people. Either things were occurring obscenely slow or so quickly no one took notice of the events around them. It was a pity really as so few of them could understand just how much time they had in their lives for everything. Not too necessarily to obtain their goals, find their soulmate; create their own person, but the lack of understanding of the time available to simply exist in this world.

 

Maybe it was age that was getting to him, after all these years building up his success in business and real estate in Storybrooke Maine; it became increasingly more painful to know how all too easily time was lost to everyone. Expect… himself it seemed. It wasn’t that he was more sensitive to the passing of a second, minute, or hour, but that he had a silent knowledge of Father Time and his inner workings.

 

The sign outside of the building stated: ‘ _Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer’_, however; one would question just how much dealing he really did. Despite the shop’s prime location on Storybrooke’s main road it wasn’t the busiest of shops through town. In fact, most of Mr. Gold’s business dealings focused on his real estate holdings in the town and being the landlord to the majority of its residents; which lead his shop more to be a hobby to fill his time than a source of income. Few of the town’s residents came to purchase the merchandise that he had meticulously restored and collected, rather they came in to usually discuss some kind of loan situation or other.

 

This is what led to him having quite a lot of free time on his hands… almost too much free time in his opinion. He shifted his weight onto his good leg, his golden-handled cane lent against the wall nearby, while he worked on the ledger that sat on the counter in front of him.  His dark brown eyes flickering up to the front of his shop as a few town residents strolled past, with it being the early afternoon, it wasn’t hard to imagine that several of them could be on their way to or from Granny’s, the town’s staple go-to diner. It was a quiet reminder that he hadn’t yet taken a break from his work for the day and while his appetite had yet demanded his attention, he was overdue for one.

 

He picked up the discarded cane to support his walk, turning over the sign in the front door window to ‘ _closed_ ’, locking the door behind him before moving to the back of the shop. Much like the front, every horizontal space seemed to be a collecting ground of odds, ends, and antiques all in various states of repair or completion. Although the space was certainly full it did not lack organization in the least, the back of the shop also held space for a small cot (used for his bad ankle days), a work desk to do his repairs at and a hotplate that currently held his attention while he went about making himself a cup of tea. Earl gray, hot, and with a squeeze of honey to brighten its flavor.

 

His son used to tease him about his tea when he was younger all the time, claiming that if he wore a red uniform, instead of his usual three piece suit, he was only a bald head away from being Captain Jean Luc Picard from _Star Trek: The Next Generation_. It was one of his son’s favorite shows and although he probably didn’t understand all of it due to his age, he indulged his son in allowing him to watch it. It was something that his wife Milah and he never agreed on but he simply couldn’t deny his child, Neal had his father wrapped around his little finger since the moment he was born.

 

Then again, he wasn’t the only person enraptured by his son, unlike himself; Neal was an outgoing and bright child. He did well enough in school, excelled in sports, and had never been one to lack an ever growing group of friends. It seemed just about everything interested his child and there were no shortages of actives he got himself involved in, there was always some kind of practice or event that he was having his father drive him to or from. While it all kept his son busy with his friends or teams he was in no way missing out on his child’s life, it was a pleasure to see him grow and develop into his own person. A person with his own hopes and dreams that made him stand out.

 

As far as Mr. Gold was concerned his son was perfect but he was sure that was the view most parents took of their child, even more so when they only had one. Milah and him had a… tolerable marriage. The two of them had meet when they were still just teenagers and like many teenagers tossed caution to the wind, causing Milah to fall pregnant just shy of her eighteenth birthday.

 

Neither of them had planned on it happening but he relished in the idea of becoming a father, his own childhood had been riddled with painful memories of his parents. His mother had died soon after he was born and his father… well, parenthood wasn’t his choice of a filling career. Malcolm Gold had blamed his son for several things in his life but of course his biggest sin was that of causing his mother’s death. It lead to a… strained relationship to say the least, if it was one at all; considering the fact he was left to be raised by two great aunts.

 

Mr. Gold refused to allow his father’s dislike of parenthood sway how he would raise his own son and raise him he did. Milah could hardly be described as the maternal type, sure she carried and birthed their son, but she wasn’t overly affectionate with the lad. He was sure that it was due to her resentment of him, after all he had been the one to “do this to her”. Though that hadn’t deterred him from doing the right thing, soon after Neal was born, the two had married and he put his efforts into supporting his small and new family.

 

His eyes slid down between his legs, his elbows perched on either of his knees while he idly spun the shaft of his cane between his palms. It wasn’t a nervous habit per say but he always had a need to fill his hands with some kind of occupation, something that made them useful, or at least busy. The shop was perhaps to still today even if he was getting plenty of work done in his ledger. Maybe he should look into updating things a bit? Set up some kind of radio in order to have music break into the endless silence that filled the space when he wasn’t helping a customer.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like change, in fact change was a good thing, and it meant progress, success, and opportunity… at least in business it did. The same wasn’t always so when it came to life…

 

XXX

 

The day had started out well enough, Neal was happily chatting about his plans for the upcoming weekend while his parents sat in the front of the car. He and a group of his friends were eagerly awaiting the weekend as they planned to catch the new movie that came out that week in Storybrooke’s small theatre. August Booth wouldn’t stop reminding Neal that one of the girls who was going with them just happened to be Emma Nolan, though at thirteen he didn’t see _why_ he should care thank you very much. He wasn’t anticipating the upcoming Saturday for any special person - - reason, for any special reason.

 

The Gold family was on their way home from a family dinner that Friday night, something that Mr. Gold had insisted on becoming a weekly staple. Gold was a quiet and introverted person for the most part and while living in a small town was good for raising a family, it wasn’t good for other purposes. They had moved to Storybrooke when Neal was four years old and ever since Milah had been very vocal in her dislike of the small town life. She complained that it gave her nowhere to go, that there was nothing to do but listen to idle gossip from other neighbors, and the constrictions of such a place would surely be the end of her.

 

He wouldn’t admit to it, but the family dinners were his attempt to keep his wife with them more often than not ever since Milah had become a fixed patron at the only bar in town: ‘ _The Rabbit Hole’_. In town gossip she had turned from being a beloved housewife to nothing more than a drunken barfly who would throw herself into the arms of any man. Gold knew his wife never really loved him (nor was loyal), it was a marriage of convenience for her, and a way for him to give his son a family, however; the longer her behavior continued the harder it was to hide from his clever son.

 

Even though Neal seemed not to have noticed his mother’s absence it wouldn’t take much for him to put two and two together to see that his parents were having problems. Gold did what he could do to make sure whatever happened had the least possible impact on his son’s life.

 

Be that as it may… he couldn’t protect his son from everything or even himself.

 

\---

 

Milah had been listening in to Neal’s chatter, asking a question here, inputting a statement there and for the time being was distracted by her son when the car pulled into the driveway of the pink Victorian home. She hadn’t noticed that the vehicle’s headlights had fallen on the form of a man standing in front of the garage.

 

Gold’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the face of his wife’s most recent paramour, “Stay in the car,” he muttered to his family while placing the gear in park and stepping out.

 

The first thing that assaulted him was the stench of alcohol that floated off the man, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the strength of it.  “I remember you, you’re from the bar.” Gold growled softly, the taller man was trespassing on his property and it wasn’t something that he took lightly. The man’s rugged yet charming face was easy to recognize when three months ago he had to drag a drunken wife home. This man and a group of his friends had gotten far too rowdy, Milah had joined in, and thankfully the Sheriff had given him a call in an offer to pick her up rather than having her arrested.

 

The man’s grin stretched from ear to ear, taking a step closer to Milah’s husband with a sway to his step. “It’s always nice to make… an impression,” he gestured widely as if to a crowd, “b—but where are my manners?” His voice hiccupped, unscrewing the cap of his flask before taking a quick swig. “We haven’t been formally introduced, Killian

Jones.”

He nodded in reply; he already knew what the man’s name was. “And what can I do for you this evening Mr. Jones?”

 

“Mama, who is the man that Papa is talking too?” Neal questioned his mother, his brown eyes staring out the front of the car from the back seat. Though it was late into the evening and the dim headlights gave just enough illumination for him to make them out.

 

“Well, I happened to be looking for a bit of fun tonight.” Killian answered him, his expression twisting into a scowl. “But it seems my entertainment that I was expecting was delayed due to… well,” He laughed, “What was called a ‘family’ affair.”

 

Gold folded his arms across his chest as did what he could to keep his anger in check. This man was honestly blaming him from keeping Milah from the bar because he wanted his family to have dinner. He knew Milah’s title as his wife was hardly more real than the obscenely large rings the man wore on his hands, but he refused for Jones to insult the woman as merely being his entertainment.

 

Milah turned in her seat to look at her son, offering him a sad smile. “Just a friend baby,” she offered an explanation, “He’s just looking out of sorts is all.” She muttered, her own eyes turning back to the two men outside. If her husband would just shut up, take their son inside, she would be free for the rest of the night to spend with Killian. The possibility was looking less and less likely the more the two of them talked; instead her pathetic husband was playing the role of protector.

 

“I’m afraid to disappoint you, dearie.” He growled, his eyes narrowing on Jones. “But I’m afraid that your entertainment will have to be delayed, she has responsibilities.”

 

“Ah-ah-ah!” Jones’s voice cracked the tension as he waved his index finger side to side, “That’s where you’re wrong.” Despite the amount that he had clearly drank Killian was surprisingly… functional as he began to walk closer, the two men seemingly circling each other like two swords men in a duel.

 

“You see, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants… deserves what he gets.” Killian spoke, his foot falls heavy on the cement of the driveway as he walked towards Gold, forcing the older man to take steps back in retreat. “And I am not that man.” He declared, his full strength knocking into Gold as he shoved him backwards, hearing his head make a sickening crack with the ground as he threw the door of the car opened to jump inside.

 

“Papa!” Neal yelled from the back, his eyes wide as he unbuckled his seat, launching to get his door open. Beneath his force and slight weight the door hardly jiggled with the child locks safely in place and Killian’s control at the wheel.

 

“Killian, what in the world are you doing?” Milah exclaimed, hearing the power locks in the door snap down.

 

“Gonna take us for a spin, love. Time to have some real fun with a real man.” The man answered, offering her a grin before throwing the car in reverse, a bump in their path caused the car to bounce somewhat while an agonized scream followed the action.

 

Before Gold could even pull himself up off the ground, Killian had made his move, while he didn’t see it happening he felt and heard the sickening crunch of his ankle as the full weight of the car backed over it. He managed to pull it away before the second tire could land in the same spot, rolling onto his side as tears burned his eyes. His gaze fell over on the road where the car sat, eyes going wide at the sight of his son in the back window pounding his fist against it.

 

With a grunt he managed to push himself up onto his knees, feeling a trickle of warm fluid run down the back of his head, through his shaggy hair and down his neck. The pain that was throbbing in his leg was nothing to compare to the fear that struck him at the sight of his son attempting to escape. Gold pushed himself up onto his good foot, pain shooting through the ruined joint of his right ankle as he attempted to walk.

 

“Killian stop this car right now! I swear we will go wherever it is that you want but for God sake please let me drive. I can smell the rum on you!” Milah pleaded, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. Usually when she felt this kind of surge it was from their passionate embraces; this was the first time that she had ever been frightened by her lover.

 

Neal didn’t know what to do as he slid over to the other side of the seat so he could get a better look outside, just managing to get the window to roll down a safe three inches, yet another child safety feature he was growing to despise. “Papa!”

 

Killian’s deep voice chuckled in laughter as he leaned over to poke Milah’s nose, a grin spreading across his features. “Don’t worry love, I can still perform.” He suggested, offering a rather large gesture of his eyebrows. The engine of the car revved up in power as he turned back his faulty attention to the road, a squeal of tires announced their departure.

 

By the time that Gold had managed to drag himself with his busted leg into the street to follow after his wife and child, along with the hellion that had kidnapped them, a horrendous screech of twisting metal reached his ears. The moment that his eyes landed on the sight of the vehicle the blood he hadn’t lost from his injuries drained from his face.

 

The car didn’t stand a chance against the old, sturdy maple tree at the speed it had been traveling, rooted between two houses at the turn in the road. The frame of the car twisted around the thick trunk into a u-shaped bend, the passenger side accepting the brunt force of the impact. The doors were both smashed inwards while the front windshield splintered and cracked to reveal where the now former Mrs. Gold was pinned into her seat.

Sheer force of the impact had thrown the dangerous driver from the wreckage, lying in an undignified heap across the grass, moaning in pain where he clutched at his stomach, one arm lying across his face.

 

Mr. Gold (to this day) would never understand how he managed to make it to the crash; he must have dragged what was left of his ankle in order to get there. Nor did he remember how he managed to pull his son out of what remained of the car, the sounds of neighbors coming out of their homes, the scream of sirens in the distance, and the gathering crowd didn’t make a difference. His boy needed him and he was lying in his arms shaking with every breath that he took.

 

“Pa-pa?” Neal coughed, trying to keep his eyes open, but he just felt so tired.

 

Gold nodded as he cradled Neal to his chest, an arm around his waist and one under his head and shoulders to protect him. “I-its alright Son, Papa’s here…” He choked out, his throat tightening in on his voice.

 

“What…” Neal groaned his eyes shift shut as he attempted to get his question out.

 

“Don’t… don’t try to talk right now.” Gold instructed, his eyes wandering over his son’s body and taking in the injuries he had sustained, trying to find the major bleeding points. Damn, why was it taking so long for the ambulance to get there? “Help’s on the way, we’re going to get you somewhere safe. You just have to stay with me, you can do that, can’t you Neal?” He begged, clutching him just a bit closer as he watched his son’s brown eyes come back into view finally.

 

His smile was weak, a clear strain on him even to do such a small act for his father. It wasn’t until then that Gold’s matching eyes first caught glimpse of the numbers that seemed to be floating above his head. They looked far more like the numbers from an alarm clock than anything else and were clear as day, how hard did he hit his head? It only took a moment more to realize that the time was changing far too quickly to be a clock; no… it was less like an alarm clock than he first thought.

 

No, in fact, they were counting down like a stopwatch timer. ‘00:01:00’ was now displayed, Gold’s eyes widening in horror as he noticed the next shift to ’00:00:59’.

 

“Neal?” His voice cracked on his name, his eyes running back down to his face. Gold’s hand came up to pat his son’s cheek to get him to open his eyes. “Stay with papa, yeah? We’re going to get you some help… and then you’ll feel better yea?”

 

’00:00:29’

 

Neal shifted in his father’s arms, his whole body felt heavy and he couldn’t seem to manage to move very far. The back of his head throbbed with pain but he managed to keep his tired eyes focused on his dad. “I love you Papa…”

 

’00:00:16’

 

“Stay strong for me yeah? We will make you feel better soon enough…” He spoke, trying to keep his son awake; he couldn’t let him fall asleep.

 

Red and blue lights from the ambulance began to swirl around the pair, the EMT’s popping open the back of the van in order to pull out equipment as two ran off in the direction of the car while another two were heading towards them. The Sheriff’s patrol car also arrived to pull up to the scene, its own lights and siren running as the Sheriff and Deputy began to take control of the situation.

 

’00:00:05’

 

“I-I love you too Son, so much. Please…” Gold’s voice cracked as tears finally broke free, falling down his cheeks only to land on Neal’s face. His eyes slide up to the sight of the seemingly angry red numbers flashing above his head.

 

’00:00:00’

 

Neal was gone.

 

XXX

 

Mr. Gold sighed heavily, walking back into the shop as he set his second cup of tea down onto the counter next to his ledger; he would get back to work in a moment. He seemed to be leaning on his cane just a bit more than usual as he moved across the space, between display counters, to reach the front door again to flip the sign back to ‘open’.

 

It was just another day in Storybrooke, another day for everyone to go about their ways, using their time however they desired. If that time was used wisely or not, well, he certainly wasn’t the person that should pass judgement on that.

 

Across the street from the shop was a curious sight though, a petite woman with curly chestnut hair trotted across the roadway on impossibly tall heels to reach the town’s under used library, her hands cupped around her eyes as she attempted to peek into the covered windows.

 

Unlike the other residents there was something missing from the sight of her, unlike the others, there was a sever lack of a time clock above her head…


End file.
